


The Mess You’d Wear With Pride

by reallooney



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallooney/pseuds/reallooney
Summary: The reader has something slipped into her drink by the barkeep, but luckily she has Geralt and Jaskier to protect and take care of her while she is unable to do so herself.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 383





	1. Chapter 1

The tavern was too crowded for your liking. You were here with Jaskier, but you lost him a few minutes after arriving—no doubt off flirting with some stranger. The two of you were here waiting for Geralt, and you were growing impatient. 

You had been traveling with Jaskier and Geralt for a while now. This past week you’d gone off with Jaskier, who had been contracted to sing at a fancy wedding, while Geralt had gone to take on a griffin two towns over. Tonight was when you all were supposed to be meeting back up. You’d planned on this specific place and time, so then the three of you could make the journey to the next town together. The road past here was dangerous, and Geralt didn’t want you and Jaskier to make the trip without him. But alas, Geralt was late. The sun was going down now and the tavern was only getting more crowded. You’d have to wait until Geralt got here to decide whether you’d stay here for the night—an idea you weren’t too fond of, since this town had a bit of a reputation for crime—or if you’d press on through the darkness. 

After waiting for a little while, Jaskier still nowhere in sight, you decided to order yourself a drink. If you were going to have to sit around, you might as well enjoy yourself. The man working behind the bar had been trying to flirt with you on and off for the past hour or so, but you’d given him as little attention as you could manage. Now that you were ordering a drink though, he seemed delighted you two were interacting again. Maybe a little bit too delighted. You didn’t give it much thought at the time. You took the drink gratefully, taking two long swigs before putting down on the counter in front of you. 

You’d planned on just sitting at the bar and nursing a couple of ales until Geralt arrived, but ever since you ordered, the barkeep had become more and more insistent with his flirting. You had barely finished your first drink when you decided it was time to go find Jaskier. You didn’t like the way the man was looking at you. 

It all hit you at once as you hopped off your seat. You felt dizzy, and for a moment you were afraid you were going to fall. One drink shouldn’t make you feel this way. You shouldn’t even be buzzed. Something was very wrong. 

You pushed through the crowded tavern, trying not to become frantic as you looked for Jaskier. Thankfully, it only took a minute to find him—he was surrounded by a small group of people who all seemed fully engrossed in what he was saying. You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Jaskier, I don’t feel well,” you said, trying to speak loud enough to be heard over the volume in the tavern. 

He glanced over his shoulder at you, not turning around. 

“I’m sure Geralt is going to be here soon,” he replied, going back to his conversation. It wasn’t out of character for Jaskier to be too distracted by social interactions to notice much else. Honestly, you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. 

“Jaskier, I’m serious.” 

At this Jaskier actually turned around. 

“Shit.” You must look pretty awful, because his face fell. “What happened?” he asked, taking a step closer to you, so you could speak to him without shouting. 

“Jaskier, I really don’t feel well. Can we please get out of here?” 

“Right, yeah, of course,” he stammered, clearly trying to collect his thoughts. 

You took his hand as he began to cut through the crowds to the innkeeper. You held onto his hand tightly, the room beginning to spin around you. 

“Hello,” Jaskier said, putting on his most charming voice for the innkeeper. “We’re here waiting to meet up with a friend, but my wife really isn’t feeling well. We were wondering if there was somewhere she could sit down for a minute away from the crowds.” 

You two had done the husband and wife bit a good handful of times now. You were nothing more than friends, but you’d both found the married act often helped open doors. Geralt teased you guys for it, but it had worked well on multiple occasions. It seemed to do so now. The innkeep was a woman, and she gave you two a kind, pitying look. Jaskier put his arm around you, maybe to sell the bit, maybe because he could sense how unsteady you were. Either way, this seemed to work. The innkeeper was leading you behind the counter now, into a small but well lit back room. 

“Thank you, so much,” Jaskier said, slipping her a few coins and closing the door behind her. 

You were leaning heavily into his side now, unsure of how much longer you could keep your feet. He helped you over to the wall, and you slid down until you were sitting on the ground, your knees pulled up in front of you and your arms crossed over your chest. 

Jaskier knelt down so he could be at your eye level. 

“Hey, hey, what happened? Are you alright?” 

It was hard to focus on his face. You felt floaty, and everything in the room seemed to be shifting ever so slightly with each passing moment. It made you feel sick to your stomach. 

“My drink,” you managed to stammer. “I think he put something in my drink.” 

“Who?” Jaskier’s expression went from concern to rage in a split second. “I swear to the gods.” 

“No,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, “don’t leave me.” 

You were suddenly afraid at the prospect of being alone in this room. You were feeling worse with each passing minute, and you wanted Jaskier there to be your anchor. 

“Of course,” he said, letting his shoulders relax. “I just need to go tell the innkeeper to send Geralt back here when he arrives. “Is that alright?” 

You nodded. You weren’t crazy about the idea, but it made sense. 

“Is there anything else you need before I go do that?” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “A bucket or something. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” 

“Right, okay.” He brought over an empty bucket from the conveniently placed stack in the far corner of the room. They looked like they were for carrying water, but it was a tall stack; they could spare one for you. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

And with that, you were alone, feeling sick and dizzy and afraid—desperately hoping that Geralt would be here soon and you could get the hell out of this damned town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first reader insert so please grant me grace<3


	2. Chapter 2

Once you were alone, the silence in the room seemed to press down on you. Your ears were ringing now, and you didn’t understand why it felt so difficult to hold your head up. How could it feel so floaty, and so heavy at the same time? It didn’t make sense. You gave in, letting yourself slump down onto the floor. The room still spun, but you felt more grounded now, and the cool stone felt good against your cheek. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid like this, maybe a minute or two, before Jaskier returned. As soon as he saw you he rushed over, no doubt assuming you’d passed out. But no, you were just lying there, thinking if you focused hard enough you might be able to feel a little less sick. Needless to say, it wasn’t working. 

Jaskier swore, kneeling in front of you again. You looked up at him, doing your best to focus on his face. 

“Where’s Geralt,” you mumbled. 

“He’ll be here soon. Come on, let’s sit up.” 

He helped you to sit up again and sat down next to you. 

“I don’t feel well,” you said. 

“I know,” Jaskier said, reaching out to grab the bucket, putting it back in front of you. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be alright.” His voice was soft and comforting as he spoke to you. It helped to set you at ease. 

“Alright.” You let your head rest on his shoulder. He put his arm around you again, gently rubbing his thumb against your arm. 

The two of you sat like that for a little while, neither of you saying anything. You wondered if the silence was as loud for Jaskier as it was for you. You were so focused on the quietness in fact, that when the door burst open you swore the sound was so loud it hurt your ears. 

“What the hell happened?”

It was Geralt, looking confused and angry. And tall. He was absolutely looming over you; was he always this tall? Maybe it was just the angle you were at. You were sitting, leaning heavily into Jaskier’s side—your head having migrated from his shoulder down to his chest—the bucket cradled in your lap, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. 

You wished you could answer him, but you were afraid if you opened your mouth you’d be sick. Luckily Jaskier was there to explain the situation. 

“Someone put something in her drink. It’s hitting her pretty hard.” 

That was putting it lightly. At first you hadn’t felt much different from being really drunk, but now it had morphed into something else entirely. You’d probably be pretty freaked out if you had a little bit more mental awareness. 

“How’s she doing? How lucid is she?” Geralt asked, sounding sufficiently concerned. 

“I’m not sure; she hasn’t been talking.” 

It was strange to listen to the two of them talk about you as if you weren’t there. 

Geralt knelt down in front of the two of you.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Geralt asked. 

You looked up, fighting the heaviness of your eyelids.

“Look me in my eyes, alright. Can you hear me?” His voice now was much softer than his usual gruff tone. 

You managed to nod. 

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” 

You shook your head. You were miserable, unquestionably so, but not in pain really. “I feel sick,” you replied, unable to elaborate any more than that. 

“Yeah, I’d wager you do,” he murmured, seemingly more to himself than to you.  
“Do you know who did this?” he asked. 

You did your best to think back to getting your drink, which was probably less than an hour ago, but felt much longer. 

“Barkeep,” you mumbled. 

You saw Geralt tense, anger evident in his eyes. 

“Not now Geralt,” Jaskier warned. “We need to get her out of here.” 

“I know,” Geralt replied, brushing him off. 

“Can you follow my finger?” he asked, lifting up his hand in front of your face and slowly moving one finger past your eyes. Trying to track his hand while also trying to deal with the spinning of the room was too much. Your eyelids fluttered as you tried to focus your eyes, and you curled up, bringing the bucket up closer to your mouth and letting your head fall down to rest in Jaskier’s lap. 

“Jaskier, go ask the innkeeper if this town has a mage. I’ll follow you out.” 

Geralt slipped a hand under your head, holding it up as Jaskier stood up and you were once again laying on the floor. 

“Come on. It’s time to go,” said Geralt. 

You groaned. You didn’t want to go anywhere. You wanted to stay here on the floor until the room stopped spinning. He didn’t need to ask if you could stand; it was obvious that wasn’t an option. You thought absentmindedly that maybe you would get to stay here—you couldn’t hold your head up, walking was out of the question—but then Geralt was scooping you up into his arms. You’d always assumed he wouldn’t be able to lift you, it had never really come up, but the way he did it now seemed effortless. 

The abrupt movement from laying on the cool, sturdy ground, to being lifted into the Witcher’s arms did nothing to help your vertigo. You swallowed back your nausea and buried your face into his chest. He then left the small room, kicking the door open and bringing you back out into the loud, crowded tavern. Normally you’d probably be embarrassed to be carried through a crowded room, but right now you were too far gone to care. The crowd split for Geralt, thankfully providing you with a clear pathway to the door. 

Once outside, you were met by Jaskier. 

“So, where’s the mage?” Geralt asked. 

“No mage,” Jaskier replied. “There is a healer though, just down the street. The innkeeper gave me directions.” 

“Lead on then,” Geralt grumbled, and with that, he followed Jaskier out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what the audience for this sorta thing is, but yknow, I’m having a good time. Hope you are too


	3. Chapter 3

As the three of you made your way down the street, the gentle rocking motion which came with each of Geralt’s steps was just making you feel more and more sick. You tried your best to focus on your breathing and suppress the nausea, but by now it was really no use. You were so focused though, that you didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was too late. 

“Geralt,” you moaned, trying to warn him. There was nothing else you could do. You threw up, turning your head in an attempt to avoid the inevitable mess. You expected Geralt to drop you, or at least make some attempt to put you on the ground, but much to your relief, his arms remained firm underneath you. He stopped walking and raised the arm which was under your shoulders to keep you from choking. 

“Fuck,” you said once you were finished. You suddenly felt like you were going to cry. You felt utterly miserable and so embarrassed. “I am so sorry.” Your words slurred as you did your best to apologize. 

“Shh, it’s fine. It’s alright,” he said in a low, comforting voice. You were sure he could tell how close you were to breaking down. “What do you need? Do we need to sit down for a minute?” 

“No,” you blinked the tears from your eyes. “I just want to go.” 

“It’s just a little farther down,” Jaskier offered up from where he stood a few steps away looking back at you. 

As you continued down the street, the cool night air made your now wet shirt stick to your skin. You began to shiver. Geralt looked down, concerned, but didn’t stop walking. 

After another minute or so of walking you arrived at a small, unobtrusive house. Jaskier knocked. 

You were just about to decide that the healer was asleep, or not home, when the door opened. The woman who stood in the doorway looked kind, albeit surprised. You would probably be surprised too if you answered the door to find a bard, a Witcher, and a girl covered in her own vomit. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“The innkeeper sent us here. She said you could help us. Someone put something in her drink.” 

She ushered you in. 

“You can lay her on the bed,” she instructed. 

Geralt carried you inside and set you down on the bed as Jaskier and the healer spoke in low voices. Geralt knelt beside you, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.You closed your eyes, trying to block out the vertigo, wishing you could just fall asleep. 

“Hey, I know you don’t feel well, but I need you to stay awake for just a little while longer,” Geralt said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lifted your hand to his, wanting to hold it. He humored you, wrapping his hand around yours gently rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You couldn’t hear the conversation between Jaskier and the healer until they walked over to the bed. 

“You’re lucky,” she said. “I just put water on for a bath; it should be ready by now.” 

Thank the gods. You were freezing, and ready to not be covered in sick. 

“We’ll need to get as much of it out of her system as we can,” she continued. “After that all I can do is to give her something to help her rest, and let her sleep it off.” 

The second part sounded very appealing. The first part, not so much. 

“For now let’s get her in the bath,” she continued. “If you’ll carry her into the next room, I’ll get the drink.” 

Geralt once again lifted you off the bed and carried you into the next room, setting you down fully dressed in the still empty bathtub. You curled up against the side, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your head on the rim. You began to cry again as you and Geralt sat waiting for the healer to return. You couldn’t quite figure out why you were crying. Maybe it was because you were embarrassed. Maybe it was because you were scared. Maybe it was just because you felt so absolutely miserable. You weren’t sure. You let yourself cry though, not willing to put in the energy to stop. Geralt sat with you, a hand on your back, talking to you in a low voice. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying past the tears and your own thoughts, but it was comforting nonetheless. 

With each minute that passed it became harder for you to form coherent thoughts. The memories of the bar were just a blur. The tears were slowing now, your breathing becoming more even, but the terrible nausea and dizziness still persisted. All you had to keep you grounded was Geralt sitting next to you. 

You’d nearly forgotten why you were here, sitting in an empty bathtub—after all an empty bathtub is a strange place to sit—when the healer walked in, a vial of something in her hand and Jaskier behind her carrying buckets of steaming water. You focused hard on listening to what she said, trying desperately to avoid the confusion which seemed to be looming over you. 

“Just set those right there,” she instructed Jaskier, who set down the buckets and then left the room again. 

The healer then came and knelt next to Geralt. 

“Alright dear, let’s get you feeling better.” 

You looked at her, eyes wide, not able to find the right words to respond. She didn’t seem to expect a response though, because she then turned and talked to Geralt. 

“I’m going to ask you to go and wait with Jaskier out in the other room,” she said. 

You leaned your head back up against the side of the tub, looking up at Geralt from the strange angle. 

He didn’t say anything, not moving from his spot next to you. 

“I respect you, Witcher,” she began, “but it’s my policy with the young ladies to make sure they feel comfortable if a man is to see them undressed. She’s in a sensitive spot now, and she can’t consent to it. I hope you understand.” 

He still hesitated. 

“I’ll take good care of her. We won’t be long. I’d appreciate it if you could go make the bed; there are clean sheets in the cupboard.” 

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably just a few seconds, Geralt stood up. 

“If you need anything.” 

The healer nodded. 

After he left, she addressed you again. 

“Are you ready for a bath? Or do you want to sit for another minute?” she asked. 

It took a second for you to find your voice. 

“I’m ready,” you replied. You were more than ready to get out of your cold, wet clothes. 

She gave you a kind smile. 

“Perfect. Now I’m going to give you something to drink. It’s not going to make you feel good at first, but I promise it won’t hurt you. We’re going to try and get some more of the drugs out of you so you can sleep okay?” 

You nodded. You liked the way she explained things as she did them. It helped to combat the confusion. 

She lifted the vial of potion to your lips and tipped it back. It tasted awful, and you knew as soon as it hit your tongue that you were in for some more miserable sick time, but you trusted the healer, and you were ready to work through it so this nightmarish day could be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that I read each chapter at least twice before uploading and I still find typos regularly is a big terrible attention span mood


	4. Chapter 4

You brought your hands up to the buttons on your shirt, trying to undo them, but your fingers were clumsy and for some reason you couldn’t figure out how to unfasten them. The healer gently brushed your hands away, making quick work of the buttons and slipping the shirt from your shoulders. You gave up even trying to help as she took off your pants and shoes. 

“Is this alright?” she asked, as she finished undressing you inside the still empty bathtub. 

You nodded, unable to form words past the brain fog and the still growing nausea. You felt worse now than you had all night so far. You couldn’t figure out why until she brought up the potion. 

“It works quickly doesn’t it?” she said. 

That’s right, this feeling was just the medicine doing its job. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon.” 

That was hard to believe. This misery seemed all encompassing. 

Instead of filling up the bathtub, she brought over a smaller basin and set it in front of you.   
“You’ll feel better quicker if you just let it happen. It’s unpleasant, I know, but effective.” 

Sitting down, the smaller basin reached your chest. You leaned over it, resting your arm on the edge, and laying your head down on your arm. 

The healer then began to pour water over your back and into your hair, gently washing out all the vomit and grime. The warm water felt wonderful. 

She stopped when you began to throw up again, holding back your hair and rubbing small circles on your back. 

“That’s it.” She spoke in a soft, comforting voice. “You’re alright.” 

The two of you continued like this for a while. She washed your whole body with the warm water, relaxing your muscles, all the while talking to you and making sure you felt safe and as comfortable as you could be while being repeatedly, violently ill. When she finished bathing you, she began braiding back your hair, stopping every time you leaned over the basin to be sick. After three or four times, your stomach was empty. By now you were clean though, and your hair was pulled back from your face in a neat braid. You wanted more than anything to go to bed. 

“Are you feeling any better?” The healer asked once you finished throwing up. 

“I think so,” you replied, wiping your mouth with the back of your trembling hand. “I want to sleep now.” You fumbled through the simple sentences, fighting to make your clouded mind and your tongue cooperate. 

“Let’s get you dressed then,” she suggested. 

You nodded, ready to be out of the bathtub now. 

She surprised you with how strong she was as she guided your arms around her shoulders and supported almost all of your weight as you stood up out of the bathtub and made your way over to a small sofa a few feet away. 

“I’ll have your clothes washed and ready for you in the morning. For now though, I’ll lend you something to sleep in. She draped a towel over you as she walked over to a dresser, producing a clean nightgown. You relaxed into the couch, fighting to keep your head up and your eyes open. 

“Just a few more minutes, and then you can sleep. I promise.” 

She walked back over, prompting you to lift your arms as she slipped the nightgown over your head and removed the towel. 

“I’m going to give you something to drink, okay?” she said, walking over to a fireplace with a steaming kettle hanging over it. 

“No,” you mumbled, remembering the last drink she’d given you. You didn’t want to be sick anymore. You just wanted to sleep. 

“This one won’t make you feel bad. It’s going to help you sleep.”

That sounded okay, you guessed, but you weren’t quite sure why you’d need it. You were plenty tired now. 

“Why don’t we take it to bed. That way if you get too sleepy to finish it, you won't have to get up.” 

That sounded good to you. 

You continued to watch the healer as she mixed herbs into the steaming cup of water. She then took it out of the room, maybe to go put the cup by the bed. This must have been what she did, because she returned a moment later with the cup gone and Jaskier in tow. 

“Where’s Geralt?” you mumbled. 

Jaskier bent down, putting one of your arms around his shoulder as the healer took the other. 

“He had to step out for a minute,” Jaskier said. “He’ll be right back though,” he assured you after his first statement was met with a disapproving noise. 

They helped you up, practically carrying you into the next room and onto the bed. Once you were sufficiently comfortable sitting up against the headboard, Jaskier handed you the cup. He watched for a moment, probably trying to make sure you’d be able to hold it without spilling, before he walked back over to the healer. 

“Thank you so much,” he said. “We’re all so grateful.” 

The healer gave him a tired smile. “You can stay here as long as you need. I’ll be in the room upstairs. If you need anything at all just come get me. I’ll come down and check up on her in the morning.” 

They exchanged a few more words you couldn’t quite make out before the healer left and Jaskier returned to your bedside. 

“Are you feeling better?” Jaskier asked. 

You took a sip of the drink. It was sweet, and it helped to settle your stomach. 

“I’m tired.” 

“Just a few more drinks and you can go to sleep, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You tried your best, but after another long sip, you could no longer lift the cup to your lips. 

“Alright then,” Jaskier said, taking the cup from your hands before you spilled it. “Let’s get some rest.” He helped you lay down and pulled the covers up to your shoulders before turning around and walking away from the bed. Maybe he was going to go lay down on the couch, you weren’t sure, but you knew you didn’t want to be alone. 

“Don’t go,” you mumbled, already half asleep. 

“I won’t,” he assured you. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You patted the mattress next to you, hoping he would get the message. You weren’t sure if you had the energy to say anything else. 

He seemed to understand what you wanted though. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you. You used the last of your strength to lift your head up and set it in his lap. He put a hand on your upper arm, and you fell asleep to the sounds of his comforting words and his gentle touch.


	5. Chapter 5

Once you were asleep, Jaskier let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’d been doing his best to put on a good face for you ever since you’d first approached him in the tavern, but seeing you then had scared him. He was still scared. More than that though, he was beating himself up for letting it happen in the first place. Both he and Geralt knew you could take care of yourself, but when you’d gone with Jaskier to the wedding as Geralt went to pursue his contract, there’d been an unspoken agreement that he’d keep an eye on you. Out of your little group of three, you were the newest to this lifestyle. It had been Jaskier’s job to make sure nothing had happened to you while Geralt was gone. In his mind, he had failed egregiously. If he’d just stayed with you, this wouldn’t have happened. But no, he had to go off and be the center of attention on his own, and you’d paid the price for it. 

Geralt had left soon after the healer took you into the other room, leaving Jaskier by himself waiting. He’d sat, feeling guilty and worried. A few tears escaped his eyes, out of empathy for you and shame for himself. 

His fear didn’t abate as he waited. You were alone with the healer for a long while. His anxiety continued to grow until the healer entered. He sat up straighter awaiting news. 

“How is she?” he’d asked, not waiting for the healer to speak first. 

She held a steaming mug of something, and she set it down on the bedside table before responding. 

“She’s doing a bit better now, but you delivered her in quite a state. I’ve seen my fair share of cases like this, but hers is one of the worst. Whatever was put in her drink was strong. It’s affected her greatly.” 

This had done nothing to ease Jaskier’s mind. “Is she going to be alright?” 

The healer sighed. “She should be. It wasn’t pretty, but I got a lot of it out of her system. Still, she hasn’t regained much of her muscle control, and speaking seems difficult. It’s a fight just to keep her conscious.” 

“Can she sleep now then?” 

The healer nodded. “I doubt she’ll have any trouble falling asleep, but it’s not unusual for these sorts of situations to bring on a lot of fear once the drug has worn off. This should help to keep her asleep for the night.” She motioned at the steaming mug. “I’m not sure how much longer we can keep her awake though.” 

She’d then led Jaskier into the room where you now sat, bathed and in clean clothes. He and the healer had helped you up and into bed. 

“Where’s Geralt?” you asked as Jaskier half carried you into the other room. 

Off cleaning up the mess I created, Jaskier thought. 

“He had to step out for a minute. He’ll be right back though.” 

He’d then helped you to bed and tried to coax some of the drink into you before you couldn’t keep your eyes open any more. Just before you fell asleep though, you beckoned him to the spot next to you. Your readiness to accept him despite his role in getting you here was, in Jaskier’s mind, more than he deserved. But if you desired comfort then he would provide it. He would do anything to help fix this. 

And that brought him up to the present, with you asleep in his lap and him patiently awaiting Geralt’s return. When he finally did return, he worried the noise of his heavy steps would wake you, but no, you stayed solidly asleep. 

You remained unconscious as he gently lifted your head from his lap and stood, getting up to meet Geralt. 

He looked exhausted, and there were splatters of blood on his armor and his hands. Jaskier knew it wasn’t his though. 

“Did you do it?” Jaskier asked, keeping his voice low. 

Geralt nodded somberly as he began to remove his armor. 

Jaskier retrieved one of the unused buckets of water. It wasn’t warm any more, but he doubted Geralt minded. The Witcher accepted it gratefully and he began to to scrub the blood from his hands. 

“Wait, you didn’t?” Jaskier added. 

“I didn’t kill him,” Geralt replied, finishing Jaskier’s thought. 

“So what happened then?” 

Geralt took off his armor, not answering until he was free of the blood covered garment. His chest was covered in flowering bruises. Jaskier realized he hadn’t even had the chance to ask Geralt about his contract. He hoped absentmindedly that this hadn’t been too long of a day for him. 

“I went back to the inn,” Geralt answered, pulling on a clean shirt. “And I spoke with the innkeeper. I explained what had happened, and she knew exactly who I was talking about. Apparently this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this.” 

Jaskier seethed. He couldn’t imagine what kind of lowlife would find pleasure in drugging women. It made him sick. 

“Apparently nobody in town would stand up to him,” Geralt continued. “He stayed away from locals, only going for travelers. She showed me to where he was and well…” Geralt trailed off. 

“But you didn’t kill him?” 

“He won’t be drugging anyone else,” Geralt replied. “Or walking, or speaking either most likely. I’d be surprised if he didn’t go the rest of his life sitting in a chair and being spoon fed. I guess I left it up to the town whether or not to let him live. He won’t make it long on his own.” 

Geralt didn’t make a habit of leaving his victims to suffer, but in this case, Jaskier didn’t mind. This man deserved nothing. He was lucky Geralt let him have his life. 

“So how is she?” Geralt asked, changing the subject. 

They both looked to the bed where you still slept soundly. 

“The healer said this was one of the worst cases she’s seen. Before she went to sleep, she still hadn’t regained her ability to walk, or talk in sentences more than a few words.” 

Geralt looked displeased. 

“The healer said they were able to get a lot of it out of her system, so we just have to wait for the rest of it to wear off naturally. She said she’d come down in the morning and if by then she was still having trouble walking and talking then we might try a couple more things.” 

This seemed to placate the Witcher slightly. 

“You should get some sleep too then, Jaskier. I doubt much more is going to happen tonight,” Geralt said, “I’ll stay up and keep an eye on her, though.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, you deserve rest. I’m sure you’ve had a much longer day than I have.” 

“No really. I’m still too awake from fighting. I won’t be able to sleep for awhile anyway,” Geralt grumbled. “Get some rest.” This was an instruction, not an invitation. 

“Okay,” Jaskier conceded. “Wake me if you need anything.” 

“I will.” 

Jaskier was ready to help at a moment’s notice. But Geralt was right. He doubted this night had much more than sleeping in store.


	6. Chapter 6

In your dream you were back in the tavern. Impossibly, it seemed even more crowded than it had been earlier. Not so crowded though, that you couldn’t see the barkeep following you. You knew deep down he was a threat, and you wanted to get away, but no matter how much time you spent pushing past people, he still followed. 

You needed to find Jaskier. You scanned the crowds for him as you shouldered, and elbowed your way past protesting patrons, but he was nowhere to be found. And the barkeep was getting closer. You started to get dizzy as you searched, becoming frantic as the air grew more and more stifling, and the ground seemed to tilt beneath your feet. You struggled to stay upright as you continued. You yelled Jaskier’s name, but you couldn’t even hear your own voice over the noise of the crowd. You gave up on calling out for Jaskier, and began just calling for help, pleading with the people around you, but they either didn’t notice your plight, or they didn’t care.

After what seemed like hours of this frenzied search, the dizziness finally overcame you. You grabbed at the arm of the person next to you, but they moved out of the way, leaving you to collapse to the floor of the tavern. Even on the ground, you still sought to escape the barkeep, but then he was there, right above you, and you knew there was nothing you could do to escape him now. It was over. 

Your face was wet with tears before you were even conscious, but now as you were pulled from the nightmare and deposited back into the unfamiliar bed of the healer’s sick room you began to cry in earnest. These weren’t the meek, silent tears from earlier, which slid down your cheeks with barely a hitched breath to accompany them. This was the wailing, bone shaking, lip numbing crying which only came at the worst, scariest, most painful times. 

Geralt was there before you were coherent enough to remember you weren’t alone. At first you flinched from his touch, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t someone here to hurt you. Once you realized his identity and his intent though, you reached for him, and he embraced you. You heard Jaskier approach on the other side of the bed, and say something, but you couldn’t hear well enough past the sound of your own crying to make out what he said, or what Geralt said back to him. It didn’t matter though, because Geralt was wrapping you up in his arms, and you wanted so desperately to be held. You sat up, still curled up in a ball, feeling horribly exposed and afraid. He wrapped one arm around your back, hooking the other one under your knees, putting your feet between his thighs and then wrapping his arm around them so your whole body could be pressed against his massive, warm, solid chest. 

You buried your face in his shirt, afraid the volume of your sobs would wake whoever else was trying to sleep in this house, but unable to stop them. Your whole body shook and the sobs caught in your throat, threatening to choke you. Even now, in the arms of your Witcher, safely in the healer’s house you were afraid. 

You’d been too out of it before to really think about what had happened. Then you’d been worried just about staying awake, embarrassed about throwing up, and tired of being miserable. You’d only been concerned with your immediate physical state—that was all you’d had the capacity to focus on—but now as the drugs continued to wear off you become more and more acutely aware of what had actually happened and what could have happened if things had gone a little bit differently. What if you’d stayed at the bar for a second drink? What if you hadn’t been able to find Jaskier before you couldn’t walk anymore? The events of your dream were terrifying, not because they posed an immediate threat, but because they showed you what so easily could have been. 

Geralt didn’t relax his hold on you, able to sense how afraid you were. He didn’t need to ask, he must have known exactly what was going through your mind right now, and he seemed to know exactly what to do. He held you close, speaking in a low, steady voice. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. He can’t hurt you. You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

He continued like this for quite a long time before you were able to regain your composure. The sobs slowed to shaking catch breaths. By now the front of Geralt’s shirt was thoroughly damp with tears. He didn’t seem to mind though. By the time you collected yourself enough to look up from where your cheek had rested against his chest, the tears had ceased falling. You looked up to Geralt, who met you with a calm, sympathetic look. He kept his left arm wrapped tightly around you as he released his right to reach out for the glass of water which had been left for you on the nightstand. You took it gratefully, letting Geralt help to steady it, since you weren’t able to keep your own hands from shaking. 

You drank the whole thing, not realizing how thirsty you were until you began to drink. When you finished, you still weren’t quite able to get back your normal breathing, but you no longer had the energy to conjure up any more tears. 

“How do I help?” Geralt asked, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eyes. 

“Stay,” you answered simply, lifting your arms from where they’d been wrapped around your own torso to wrap them around his. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he responded. 

You didn’t let go as he laid down, keeping yourself wrapped around him as he pulled the covers over the two of you. You thought there was no way you would be able to get back to sleep after that terrible nightmare, but as you laid next to Geralt, your head against his chest listening to his heartbeat, you slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

When you awoke you were still draped across Geralt’s chest. Your whole body was covered with a thin, cold layer of sweat. As much as you wished you could stay here under the covers nestled safely against Geralt, listening to his steady heartbeat, it was much too hot. You felt comforted here, but also a little bit like you were suffocating. You reluctantly pulled yourself from Geralt and out from under the covers, trying and failing to not wake the Witcher. His eyes opened slowly, resting on you as you pushed the covers away, sitting up and bringing your knees up to your chest. He sat up as well, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, his morning voice gravelly and thick with concern. 

“Better,” you answered. Mentally, your head felt so much clearer than it had last night, and you were no longer plagued with the suffocating fear. You felt like yourself again. 

“Better,” you continued, “but terrible. If that makes any sense.” 

Physically, you felt like you’d been trampled by Roach. It didn’t feel too dissimilar from how you usually felt after a heavy night of drinking, except this was about ten times worse. You were nauseous, and you had a throbbing headache. Your muscles ached and you longed to go back to sleep and wake up once you didn’t feel so awful, but you doubted you’d be able to now. 

Geralt gave you a sympathetic smile. “I don’t doubt it. What can I do to help?” 

You closed your eyes, thinking and returning his sad smile with one of your own. After a moment of contemplation, you decided that what you needed was something to get rid of the awful taste in your mouth. 

“Some water would be wonderful.” 

He silently rose from the bed to retrieve the water jug from the other side of the room. 

You doubted you could stomach any food right now, but a cool glass of water seemed like it might help to alleviate some of your symptoms. 

As Geralt got you water, a sleepy Jaskier approached the bed. He almost looked sheepish, as if awaiting an invitation. You patted the bed, resting your head on his shoulder once he was seated comfortably on the mattress next to you. 

Geralt brought back the water and you took it gratefully. It was clean and sweet, and it helped to settle your stomach. Once it was empty you set it on the bedside table and laid down again, resting your head now in Jaskier’s lap. Geralt sat on your other side, reclining against the headboard. The bed was nearly too small for all three of you, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You felt safe curled up between the two of them. 

You reached up and undid the piece of fabric keeping your hair in its braid. You appreciated the healer’s handiwork, and it had served its purpose last night, but now even the slight pulling from the braided strands of hair exacerbated your headache. Once it was untied, Jaskier took over, gently unweaving the hair, working his way up to your scalp as he ran his fingers through your hair. It felt wonderful. Your still damp hair was cool on your shoulders, and Jaskier’s fingers were tender and soothing. You began to doze. 

You weren’t sure how long the three of you sat there, Jaskier playing with your hair as you danced along the edge of sleeping and wakefulness. You didn’t wake again truly until the healer came back downstairs. 

You were roused by the sound of her voice. 

“I can come back if she’s still sleeping.” 

You opened your eyes. “I’m awake.” You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes and looking to the healer. 

“I can come back if you want to sleep a little longer. It’s no trouble,” she assured you. 

“No,” you replied. The sooner she could assure Geralt and Jaskier that you were okay, the sooner you could leave. “Really, I’m awake.” As comfortable as you were in the healer’s bed with Geralt and Jaskier, and as grateful as you were for all she had done for you, you wanted out of this town. You wanted to leave it behind and never return. It was doubtful you’d be able to truly relax until this cursed place was far out of sight. 

“Alright,” the healer said. “I have your clothes if you want to come into the other room and change.” 

You nodded, getting out of bed and following her out of the room, glad the floor was once again firm beneath your feet, the terrible vertigo from the previous night gone. 

The healer handed you a pile of washed and neatly folded clothes, and as you changed she began to ask you questions. 

She made sure you’d regained your bearings and your thoughts. Once she was satisfied that the worst of the drugs had worn off, she asked how you were feeling now. You didn’t hold back as you explained how worn out, achy, and nauseous you felt. She gave you the same sad smile Geralt had. 

“A day or two of rest should have you feeling better,” she said, “along with a lot of water and a few good meals.” 

This was the answer you’d expected, but you were a bit disappointed she didn’t have something to give you which would have you feeling better now. You were tired of being miserable. 

“You’re welcome to stay here until you feel better,” she offered. “Your friends too.” 

“I think we’d better be going,” you said regretfully. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d have done…” You trailed off as she enveloped you in a hug. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m just glad I could help.” 

You were surprised to feel tears sting your eyes, moved by her sympathy. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” 

You shook your head. 

“You helped so much already. I think what I need to do next is go.” 

She nodded, seemingly able to understand how badly you needed to get out of this town. 

“Go safely,” she said. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts.”


	8. Chapter 8

You rode with Geralt on Roach out of town, still too tired to walk. The morning was cool and foggy, and you wished you were back in bed, but more than that, you wanted to be out of this hellish town. 

Once you were an hour on the road, the town sufficiently behind you, you lost most of your motivation to keep traveling. You wanted to lean against Geralt’s chest and fall back asleep, but your persistent headache and nausea kept you from resting. As you kept going it got worse and worse, the headache radiating down your back, and nausea creeping up your throat. Even though the day remained cool well after the sun was up, you still felt picks of cold sweat accumulating on the back of your neck and dripping down your back. 

You focused on your breathing, trying to block out the bright sunlight and sickening rocking of Roach’s steps. You held out for as long as you could, but after another hour you turned to Geralt. 

“Hey, can we stop?” You tried your best to sound casual, but in reality you felt like you were about to be sick again. 

“Oh,” he looked surprised. “Of course.” 

He led Roach to the side of the trail and pulled up on the reigns, dismounting and reaching up for you. Normally you had no trouble managing a horse on your own, but you were starting to get dizzy again, and you didn’t want to fall. 

Safely on solid ground again, you stumbled over to a tree on the side of the trail. Hands on your knees, you started to dry heave. There was nothing left in your stomach though. After a minute or so you finished, but it left you feel shaky and unsteady. 

Geralt walked up behind you, putting a hand on your back. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, handing you a canteen full of water. 

You took a long drink before answering. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Can we stop for awhile though?” you asked, not feeling up to any more traveling. 

“Sure we can.” 

You walked over to a nearby log, sitting down and putting your head in your hands. Geralt followed. 

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you’re not going to feel better until you have something to eat,” Geralt said.

“Geralt, I really don’t think—” 

He cut you off. “It’s counterintuitive, I’m aware of that, but you’ve got to trust me. It will help.” 

You looked up, feeling defeated. “Fine.” It wasn’t like you were going to feel any worse. You kept sitting on the log, sipping water as Geralt stood up to get you something to eat. 

He rummaged in his bag for a minute before retrieving some bread, handing it to you before getting to work starting a fire. 

“We can stay here for today—for as long as you need, okay?” 

You nodded, taking hesitant bites of the bread. 

Jaskier came and sat next to you, offering up his shoulder to rest your head on. He put his arm around you, and you both watched as Geralt coaxed a roaring fire from a pile of sticks. 

The three of you stayed at your campsite for the next little while, none of you speaking. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Jaskier asked once you had finished the bread and most of the water.

“Yeah,” you answered, reluctant to admit that Geralt had been right. As much as you liked to win arguments though, you were glad not to feel so sick. In fact, you felt more normal than you had since this whole thing had begun. Now you mostly just felt like you needed a nap. 

“Do you want to talk about it at all? What happened.” 

You thought about that for a second. There was definitely a lot to unpack, and as much as you hated to admit it, there was no doubt the night’s events would have a lasting effect on you, but right now you didn’t have the energy to address all that. 

“Can we just act like nothing happened?” you asked. “At least for now.” You saw Geralt and Jaskier share a look, but they didn’t oppose you. “Please?” 

“Are you sure? We want to help. You can talk to us about anything.” Jaskier said. 

“I know, I know,” you said, looking up at him. “I just don’t have the energy right now.” 

“Of course,” Geralt assured you. “You don’t need to feel obligated to tell us anything. Just know that we’re here, alright?” 

“I know. Right now I just want to rest though.” 

Geralt nodded. 

“We can stay here as long as you want,” he reiterated. 

You laid your head back down on Jaskier’s shoulder. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay here, or when you’d be ready to talk about what happened. What you did know though, was that out here in the woods with Jaskier and Geralt you were safe, and you would be taken care of. And for now, that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit shorter chapter than normal. Just wanted to wrap everything up. I hope you liked it!


End file.
